


Avengers Porn (Loki Specific)

by Exorin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Embarrassment, F/M, Loki using the Reader, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Snippets, debasement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorin/pseuds/Exorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pieces brought over from Tumblr. All standalone and explicit unless otherwise marked.<br/>Every single piece is Loki/Reader wherein the Reader is treated like an object.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki/Reader: The One Where You Say His Name

You don’t hear him approach you until he’s already pressed against your back, his fingers curled around the flesh of your hips, the hard, thick heat of his cock shoved against the curve of your ass with an insistence you would never deny.

His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, his teeth pull at the lobe and heat spirals down your spine and pools at the wet heat between your legs,  
“I bet you wish for it slow sometimes,” he whispers, words mouthed against the skin under your earlobe, your body trembles in response, “don’t you my pet?”

  
You know that he doesn’t want an answer, and can feel the smile pulling at his lips pressed against your neck at your obedience, his fingers tighten on your hips briefly before he slides his right hand forward, his fingertips sliding easily between the spread of your legs- middle finger slipping past your already sensitive clit, and tracing the wetness of your cunt with a soft growl, open-mouthed against your throat.

  
“You’re only good for this,” he pushes his finger into you, just the middle one, knuckle deep and twisting until you’re gasping aloud, “only good to be filled,” his left hand leaves the curve of your hip and slides back until his hand is pressed palm-flat against the centre of your back. He leans over you, pushing your body to bend at the waist- your hands come up instinctively to brace yourself against the wall, the weight of his cock- hard and full and hot slips between your legs and the noise of desperate wantonness is surprising to your own ears, “only good to be fucked like a whore.” he brings his knee forward and forces your legs further apart, until your thighs are shaking with the effort of standing.

  
When he slides into you, in one hard, swift stroke, he doesn’t move his right hand from where it’s spread, fingers wide over the mound of your cunt- he shoves into you, his cock pressing thickly in with his finger, spreading the heat and wetness of you wide to accommodate him. Your body arches, your back against his chest, his mouth open against your ear again- his grunts of sheer pleasure sending fire down your spine. He fists his free hand in your hair and forces your head back until your neck is strained, until you’re moaning desperately- you’ve never heard a sound as filthy and wet as the quick, hard fill of his cock shoving in and out of the incredible heat and wetness of your cunt, “Say my name, you mewling quim,” his hips roll forward again and again, you can feel your come already rolling wetly down the insides of your thighs, “say my name while I’m fucking you.”

  
Your voice is trembling, your breath is fast and uneven and you can feel your orgasm pulling through you, fast and quick and continuous, coming in waves with this man, this _God_ behind you, and you chant his name like a prayer. _Like worship._

  
**Loki.**


	2. Loki/Reader: The One With The Boot Porn

**His fingers fist in your hair** , hard enough that you can feel the press of his knuckles against the back of your skull- he smiles at you, a long, slow curl of his lips until his teeth are bared and drags you down to the floor by your hair until you’re kneeling before him.  
  
“You do enjoy your subjugation, don’t you pet?”  
  
The hand that’s not tangled in your hair slides down your jaw, fingertips pressing against your skin and driving shivers down your spine with their surprising gentleness. He holds your face and runs the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, hissing low when your tongue slips out to lick the press of his thumb- you can’t help the smile that passes quickly over your lips and try to hide it by pulling forward from his grip and sucking the digit into the heat of your mouth.  
  
“ _Oh,_ ” He breaths, a short, low sound and shoves his thumb into your mouth, up to the second knuckle, “Would you like to worship your God?”   
  
The choked moan that presses against his skin is all the answer he needs, he pulls his hand from your mouth and slides it along the leather belt he wears, his fingertips tug at the clasps until it falls away. You’re caught between watching the heat flare up in his bright eyes and the way his fingers slide under the leather and curl around the heavy weight of his cock- you lick your lips and make a soft keening noise, desperate for the taste of him.   
  
His fingers clench in your hair and pull until your head is tilted back at an angle, until you’re looking up at him with your mouth parted open, breathing heavy. He laughs, a low sound that tells nothing and promises everything, a sound that makes heat pool wetly between your thighs- and then he’s pressing against your lips and sliding, pushing, shoving into the wet warmth of your mouth, stretching your lips wide to accommodate him.  
  
You moan around him, around the thick, hot, heavy length of him filling you and try not to gag when he slides right to the back of your throat- pushed in until your nose is shoved against the thin coarse hair above his cock. You press your tongue flat against the underside of him, and curl the tip of your tongue to lick a hard line along him as he pulls slowly back- you can’t help but watch him when his fingers tangle more in your hair, hard enough that you can feel the pull at the roots and he thrusts back into your mouth, all the way, you swallow around him and taste the salty, thick wetness pressed against the back of your throat.   
  
His head is tilted back, his bright eyes closed tight enough that you can see the way his skin crinkles around his eyes, his mouth is slightly parted, his tongue dips out to wet the dryness of his lower lip and his breath is coming out in short, sharp gasps. You’ve never seen him like this and your hand slides between the spread of your thighs, your fingers pressing against the incredible wetness of your cunt. You moan again, loud enough that he looks down at you, mid-thrust, with his cock half-shoved into your mouth.  
  
The smile he gives you is wide, dangerous and filthy, he angles his body and slides his leg between yours until the leather of his boot is pressed between your thighs, the coolness of the leather shoved against the heat and wetness of your cunt and you shamelessly arch against it.  
  
“Yes,” He laughs, that same low sound that makes you moan instinctively, “that’s right, my filthy whore, you’ll take anything I give you.”  
  
The hand that’s not fisted in your hair is pressed against your neck now, his fingertips clenching against your skin and you know that he can feel the quick messy beat of your pulse against his hand and the hard bob and swallow of your throat whenever he shoves his cock to the back of your mouth.  
  
And you take it, and you love it- the constant thrust and shove and ram of him fucking your mouth, the stretch and burn of your lips spread wide around the thick heat and hardness of his cock, the feel of him in your throat, that wet, sticky salted taste overwhelming your senses and tilting you over the edge- with his boot between your legs and the way your body shifts and fits over the leather, arches against the press and the complete and utter abandon you feel as you arch and rock your cunt against the shove.  
  
When his fingers tighten around your neck and in your hair you stretch your mouth open further and moan around the heat of him, watching the way he thrusts forward until his cock is shoved against the back of your throat and listening to the sound of his breath hitching into an almost silent groan.   
  
And the pour of heat down your throat, the thick, wet taste of him is enough to make your body give out, the orgasm pulling through you in desperate waves, moaning helplessly around the weight in your mouth.


	3. Loki/Reader: The One With The Duplicate (spitroasting)

He’s got you bent over at the waist, his fingers pressing indents into your hips, your legs kicked wide and open with the hard, thick swell of his cock shoved into you. You can feel the incredible wetness of your cunt running down the insides of your thighs, and you just want him to _move_.   
  
You feel his laughter through his body, can feel it vibrating in the press of his hands, in the thrust of his cock and you whimper _please_ breathlessly, listen to the word form and fall out of your mouth with a desperate, helpless moan.  
  
“Did you want something, my pet?” He asks and runs his hand down your back, pressing his fingertips down against the ridges of your spine. You try to push back against him and find yourself held still with a second pair of hands, your body trembles as you raise your eyes up to find an identical duplicate of him looking down at you.   
  
_Oh God._  
  
His laughter is louder now, amplified by the two of them- his duplicate’s hand slides along your jaw to cup your chin and tilt your face back up to look at him, his other hand presses fingers to your mouth, two of them, index and middle and pushes them forward until the tips of them brush your throat and make your muscles clench around them in an effort not to gag.  
  
“Mmm, yes,” He groans behind you, rolling his hips slow, _too slow_ , and leaning over your bent body until his mouth is against the side of your neck, “I’m going to fill you up until I’m the only thing you know.”  
  
You moan helplessly and suck harder at the fingers shoved into your mouth, slide your tongue between them and silently beg for more. His duplicate smiles down at you and fists his hand into your hair, tugging your neck back until it’s straining- his fingers pull from your mouth with a wet, filthy sound, your saliva leaking out of the corners of your mouth.  
  
The thick heat, and heavy weight of his duplicate when his cock is pressed into your wet mouth is so incredibly perfect, the duplicate slides into your mouth just as he’s withdrawing from the heat of your cunt and thrusting back in with force enough to shove you forward and throat-deep onto his duplicate.  
  
They press into you in a shifting rhythm that never allows your body to adjust to being so entirely used- the scent and taste and feel and press of his body, his cock inside you is completely and utterly overwhelming and you moan around the heavy swell of heat in your mouth and push back against the angled press of his cock inside of your cunt until you’re broken apart and coming in waves.  
  
His fingers dig into your hips, his head tilted back and mouth parted open, hard, quiet grunts falling from his mouth- the hot pour of him pushing into your body, filling your throat and your cunt with his come until you’re nothing but his.


	4. Loki/Reader: The One With Duplicates and Double Penetration

He has you spread out across his bed of green and silver, deep in the very heart of Asgard- his fingers are pressed tight around the flesh of your inner thighs as he shoves your legs open wide for him. He kneels between the spread and bend of them, looking down at you with hunger and pleasure and the knowledge that you will never, ever, say no to the whims of his desires.   
  
“So perfect, my whore.” he smiles at you, the curve of his lips and the sound of the words from his mouth curl heat down your spine and pool warmth wetly between the wide v of your thighs. His fingertips trail lines up and over your knees, slide down the slope of your thighs and press feather-light over the heated swell of your cunt until you’re tilting your hips downwards and quiet pleading noises are falling from your lips.  
  
“Would you beg if I asked you?” he’s moved one hand away from your body, his fingertips sliding the metal and leather of his belt open, tugging at the slanted layer of of his armour and shedding the weight of his clothing piece by piece even as his other hand- the one drawing lines of fire along the inside of your thighs, presses into the heat of your cunt, two fingers thick.   
  
Your back arches, your legs spreading impossibly wider, with the words _Yes, my Lord_ escaping from between parted lips in a desperate gasp, hitched and broken as his long, slender fingers twist inside of you and press deeper than you had thought possible.   
  
He leans over you, his hand pressed against the sheets beside your head- he presses his lips against the space just below your earlobe before tilting his head up and breathing words, open mouthed and hot against the shell of your ear, “Then beg me, you pathetic writhing quim.”  
  
And you do, in between gasps and moans of pleasure, words of _please_ and _yes_ and _more, my Lord, more_ with a third finger sliding into you as easy as the first two and stretching you wide to accommodate the promise of his thick, heavy, hot cock shoved between your legs, deep into the open heat of your cunt.   
  
The pressure builds at the base of your spine, your thighs tremble at being held so wide open, his fingers twist and curve and slide with a wet, obscene sound and then are gone quickly, his laughter low against your ear when you whimper at the loss and fist your hands into the sheets, your hips canting down to find the perfect press of his fingers again.  
  
He moves to the side, pulling you with him with both hands until you’re kneeling over him and looking down, your thighs pressed tight against his hips with the heat of his cock pushing between the swollen lips of your cunt, sliding and shoving into the wetness of you. One of his hands trailing up the centre line of your body until his fingers are curled around your neck, high enough on your throat that the wet, sticky tips of his index and middle fingers still warm from your body are pressed between your parted lips. His other hand palm-flat against the curve of your back, pressing you forwards until you’re leaning over him.  
  
“Move.” he commands, slipping his fingers further into your mouth as you arch and grind down against him, lifting your hips until just the heat of his swollen head is pressed inside you and shoving down with enough force that you can feel your thighs bruising against the jut of his hipbones.   
  
He pulls his fingers from your mouth, your saliva coating them, his breathing is heavy and his hips rise to meet yours with the wet, filthy sound of him filling you adding obscenity to the gasps issuing from your lips.   
  
There’s a press of fingers behind you, warm and wet and pushing against the tight puckered hole of your ass with a careful kind of instance. The line of your shoulders straightens and your breath hitches in the back of your throat and only the weighted feel and press of his cock buried balls deep into the soaking wetness of your cunt keeps you grounded.   
  
The hand on your lower back strokes up your spine, fingertips pressing against the ridges and pulling you down against him until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear again, his breath hot and mouth open.  
  
“You will submit to me.” He says in a low voice, tinged with the huskiness of _want_ in it’s purest form and when your body noticeably relaxes at his words, his lips curve into a smile, “Such a good little whore, aren’t you?”  
  
His finger presses in, wet and thick inside of the tightness of you with a quick slide that sends shocks and sparks of heat bursting across your nerves, in a way that makes the line of your back arch wide and your held breath come out with a gasp and a moan.  
  
Two fingers later and you’re keening and arching and pushing desperately between the shove of his cock and the press of his fingers, and then the heat is gone again and his laughter at your desperate whimper is below you and behind you as a second pair of hands slide and clench over the curve of your hips.   
  
You glance over your shoulder and catch the same wild smile of the God beneath you, matched by his duplicate behind you- he moves over you, pressing you further down against his true self, with his fingertips bruising the flesh of your hips and the wide heat of his cock pressing against the wet, spread, puckered hole of your ass and breaching into you with a long, slow slide.  
  
“Move.” He commands again. Your fingers tangle and fist in the sheets beside his head and your body trembles as you impale yourself back against his duplicate- the thick slide of his cock makes you gasp and moan, a broken, shattered sound, his hips tilt up at the same time, his cock shoving into the heat and wetness of your cunt.   
  
He and his duplicate work in tandem, the push, pull, slide, _fuck_ , of them breaking you apart at the seam- the pressure at the base of your spine spreads to the line of your back until your entire body feels like fire, until you’re gasping and moaning and arching, until the orgasm pulls through your body with a shout and you’re coming in waves of wet heat.  
  
His fingers clench against your skin, against your shoulders and hips and back and thighs- so many hands and fingers and stimuli that you’re not sure where he begins and you end, he curves underneath of you, arches, groans low, and the thick, hot slide of him fills you with wet heat.  
  
You slide off of him with a sigh, your legs shaking and body throbbing, with come leaking down between your thighs, and move to stand up- his fingers curl around your forearm and he pulls you back down onto the bed.  
  
“Rest up.” he says, his fingertips brushing softly against the line of your mouth, “I’m not through with you yet.”


	5. Loki/Reader: The One With Public Sex

**“Bring me my whore!”** he shouts, his boots falling heavy against the tiled floor of the throne room, _his_ throne room, “I want her thrown down at my feet.” his helmet is ripped from his head and tossed to the ground with a loud clatter, he reaches the throne and sits- leaning back with his legs spread wide.  
  
The guards have you by your forearms, their fingertips digging into your skin hard enough to bruise- they pull you forward, through the throngs of people gathered, and stop when they reach the steps. They shove you hard enough that you fall to your knees atop the highest step, you brace yourself against the impact with your hands- palm-flat against the floor.  
  
“To me.” he says, leaning forward a little and watching. You start to stand, legs trembling from the fall- but stop as soon as you hear the low growl coming from his throat, you look up at him and lower yourself back to the ground, back onto your hands and knees, “Stay on your knees, it’s better suited to you in the presence of your King.”  
  
You can feel the people watching you, can feel the red rising across your neck and cheeks as you crawl slowly forward- you keep your head lowered, watching the lines of the tiles passing underneath of you and stop when you see the toe of his boots.   
  
You stay bent, bowed to him for what seems like forever until his fingers tangle in your hair and he forces your head back hard enough that you feel the strain, stretch, and tension in your neck, “I will have you here,” his voice is lowered, quiet enough that only you can hear him, “and you will behave.”  
  
“Yes my Lord.” you say and slide closer between the spread of his legs, his hand stays fisted in your hair- his other curled around the armrest of his throne. Your hands twitch against the floor and you hesitate before lifting them to the soft press and folds of leather that make up his armour. When he doesn’t pull your hands away, you begin sliding the leather through the clasps, your fingertips can feel the heat and hard swell of him underneath the layers and you can almost forget about the spectators watching.  
  
The feel of his weighted cock, hard and hot, with your fingers wrapped around it, is enough to make heat spiral down your spine and pool wetly between your legs and you don’t hesitate when the fingers in your hair tighten and he shoves himself between the spread of your mouth.   
  
He makes no sound, aside from a low grunt, but you can tell from the way he clenches his fingers into the metal of his chair, and the way his fingers thread through your hair, that he’s holding back- you moan around the feel of him in your mouth, the press of his cock to the very back of your throat with your lips opened wide to accommodate him.  
  
You slide your tongue around the size of him and hollow your cheeks, sucking him as deep into your throat as you can manage- with your nose shoved against the coarse hair above his cock. You bring your hand up from the floor and curl your fingers around the heavy weight of his balls, squeezing gently and rolling them in your hands until he groans quietly and brings his other hand to join the first in your hair.   
  
His hands hold your head in place, his grip on your hair pulling hard enough to tear, and you open your throat to him, spread your lips impossibly wider and let him fuck the damp heat of your mouth. The wet, filthy sound of him sliding in and out between your lips is loud against your eardrums, but not loud enough that you can’t hear the low chatter of the crowd watching you.  
  
He pulls back, the _pop_ of his cock sliding from your mouth is almost deafening in the silence, he’s looking down at you with _want_ in his eyes and that look alone makes you moan aloud, makes your body tremble and your cunt throb wetly between your legs.  
  
“Stand.” he orders, his voice betraying nothing.   
  
You push yourself up, your hands on your thighs and your legs shaking, but you move slowly to your feet and look down at him, your breath gets caught in the back of your throat at the slight upwards curve of his lips- the smallest of smiles, but a smile all the same, and a dangerous one at that.  
  
He reaches up and clenches his fingers around the fabric of your shirt, pulling his arm back hard enough that the material rips a slanted line down the centre of your chest- he does it again and again until you’re rendered naked before him. His eyes travel over your body, taking in every single detail of your frame- every freckle, every scar, until you can feel the heat of his gaze burning your skin red with embarrassment.   
  
His hands are on your hips, turning you to face the audience you had forgotten- he slides his hands with the turn of your body, his right hand pressing palm-flat against the curve of your back and pushing until you’re bent at the waist. He slides his other hand between your legs and runs a fingertip through the wetness of your cunt- his laughter behind you is soft, but it still deepens the blush of red across your skin.  
  
When he presses into you, it’s with a hard, quick, shove- the weight and spread of his cock stretching your body wide around the push. His fingertips clench at your hips, nails pressing crescent imprints into your skin- he pulls you to him until you’re almost sitting on his lap, until your ass is pressed against his skin and he’s hot and thick and hard inside your cunt.   
  
He leans back against the throne and drags you with him, holding your body down against his and sliding his hands underneath the bend of your legs- he lifts until you’re balanced over him with legs spread wide over the armrests and then he slides out from your cunt slowly, wetly, and with just the head of his cock still inside, thrusts back in hard enough to make you arch and moan desperately.  
  
He holds you there, prone above him with the wetness of your cunt surrounding the thick, hot, push pull fuck of him- his hands seemingly everywhere and your body on fire from his touch, for what seems like hours. Just the incredible slide of his cock and the sound of his breathing, low and laboured and short, until you’re begging and pleading and arching against him.   
  
“When you scream my name,” he whispers the words against the back of your neck, his fingertips digging into the curve of your hips again, “you will call me King.”   
  
And you do- the words rise from your lips and echo throughout the throne room, your body clamps down around the heat of him and you come in helpless waves, your fingers curled tightly around the armrests and your legs aching from keeping you upright.   
  
His teeth sink into your shoulder, a wide spread bite, and he moans silently against the sweat dampened skin of your back- his hips jerk up, his cock pushing and pulsing inside you with the thick wet heat of him filling you.   
  
It’s his fingers, his hands, that lift you from the spread of the armrests- he presses his mouth against the space of skin just under your earlobe, “Return to my chambers.” he says and watches you walk away on shaky legs with a smile across his lips.


	6. Loki/Reader: The Other One Where You Say His Name

“ _Shhhh,_ ” He says, right against the shell of your ear, his breath hot, voice low- he’s pressed against your back, skin to skin, his cock hanging heavy and hard against the swell of your ass while his left hand moves to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into your skin, “I only want to hear you say my name, nothing else.”

You’re already almost trembling when he slides his right hand over the curve of your hip, following the lines of your body downwards, his fingers slipping, easy, between your legs- you can feel his smile against the space just under your ear, the appreciative growl in his words enough to make your knees weak, “Already so wet for me, aren’t you?”

The tip of his middle finger slides along the wet line of your cunt, pressed just between the folds and you buckle against him, moan wordlessly- the hand locked around your neck the only thing keeping you standing as he pushes up and fills you to the knuckle in a quick shove.

You can feel his cock hardening further, straining against your ass and you’re shaking at the way the hot, leaking head of him pushes between the space where your thighs meet, sliding against the parted heat of your cunt- you arch back, his teeth grazing your shoulder as you do and you gasp his name, his cock sinking in to join his finger inside the wetness of you.

“Again.” he says, groans, bending you over with his body to take you harder- his name falling from your opened mouth with every shove of his hips, every push, every quick, deep thrust, “Say my name.”

His finger and cock both inside of your cunt, wet and thick and filthy sounding with every movement, his teeth pressed down against the curve of your neck and all you can hear is the gasped, desperate sound of his name spilling from your throat,

_Loki, Loki, Loki_


End file.
